I’ve almost always felt big. Too big. Bigger than others. Bigger than I want to be.
Choose your poison.
Except, ironically, right now. I’m probably the biggest I’ve ever been: I’m 40 weeks pregnant, I’m huge, and I’m feeling amazing. Okay, amazing is a bit of a stretch in this heat and not-particularly-comfortable stage, but I look in the mirror and think “nice”. Admittedly sometimes I think “woah I’m huge” but not in an “I’m so fat” way. More in a “wow look at that baby in there. I can’t wait to meet him/her” way.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m marveling at what my body can do, or if I just feel like I’m rocking some pretty cute dresses, but I just feel good. There’s a number on the scale every time I go for a check up that I don’t recognise, and that the midwives aren’t particularly fussed with, and it doesn’t define me as it has in the past.
No one thing defines me. I decide. I am the decider.
Yes I have health and fitness goals for myself, but they are not based around guilt or any kind of timeline. They are based around wanting to be able to move more freely; wanting my body to function at its best so I can be the best person and wife and mama I can be. I don’t expect any changes to come easily; I know I will have to work for them; but I want to enjoy the process as well as the health benefits I will gain.
I remember when i started my couch 2 5k training last year, I was so surprised at how quickly I noticed changes. Small changes yes, but enough changes to make me keep going. So even though I’m currently bigger than I’ve ever been, I’m always going to be bigger than my body.